


Wait, Take Gerald With You!

by PumpkinDoodles



Series: Taserbones Tumblr Prompts & Tiny (Adorkable) Fics [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Cute fluffy kittens, F/M, HYDRA incursions, Triple Agent!Rumlow, who are murder kittens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-10-29 01:01:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20787974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PumpkinDoodles/pseuds/PumpkinDoodles
Summary: based on this prompt from @ibelieveinturtles/SerialObsessor:





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ibelieveinturtles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinturtles/gifts).

> *I own nothing!

“HYDRA incursion in zone two, HYDRA incursion in zone two,” the facility’s public announcement system repeated. The sirens had already gone off and were wailing above Brock Rumlow’s head when Darcy Lewis turned in her lab chair a few feet away. She reached into the pocket of her Culver sweatshirt.

“Get down and shelter in place,” he said to her, Foster, and the other assistant. “I know these guys, if you hide, they won’t look too hard, this is probably get in, get out!” He covered his ear to better hear his comms devices: over the alarms, he could hear Rollins giving out orders in zone three. He was stepping away when Lewis grabbed his elbow.

“Wait,” she said, “take Gerald with you!”

“Gerald?” Brock said, looking at the skinny, tall guy cowering next to Foster near their lab space. “Your boyfriend?”

“No, that’s Ian!” she yelled over the warning peals. “This is Gerald!” She held up a tiny, fuzzy kitten. It was black and small enough to fit in her hands. “He can help!”

“Have you lost your goddamned mind?” Brock said. The kitten seemed unafraid and merely blinked at him. The amber eyes were serious. “I’m not taking your fucking cat into a firefight, Lewis! Jesus H. Christ, what is wrong with you? Those stuffed animals of yours are bad enough--” he was yelling, when the first of his old HYDRA colleagues came around the corner. He recognized him. Agent Reynolds, a snivelling weasel that Brock absolutely loathed. Brock had always wanted to shoot Reynolds, but Fury had said it would blow his cover as a triple agent if he went around shooting all the HYDRA moles who got on his nerves.

He was trying to shoulder Lewis aside without injury and block any gunfire when the tentacles emerged from the kitten’s mouth. Brock was so stunned, all he could do was watch as Gerald swallowed Reynolds. “He--he--swallowed him whole,” Brock said, jaw slack.

“He’s a Flerken!” Lewis said brightly. “He can, like, swallow anybody or anything that menaces us. Thor got him for me and Jane.” In her hands, the tiny black kitten belched. “Awww,” Darcy said. “Isn’t he cute? Good baby.”

“Very--very useful,” Brock said, feeling numb.

“Did you want to go swallow more baddies?” she asked the kitten. “I think he can fit more in, if you want?” she offered Brock.

“No, no, you stay here and just use him for, uh defensive purposes,” Brock said. “What’s his name again?”

“Gerald,” Darcy said. “That’s the name he had when Thor bought him. He seems attached to it, so…”

“You wouldn’t want him not to like his name,” Rumlow yelled. “I’m gonna go secure the area, you and the Flerken stay here, all right?” He nodded and watched her wiggle behind some equipment, then exited the lab. He gave Lewis one last glance over his shoulder. She was petting the murder kitten. “I hope everybody’s still here when I get back,” he muttered dubiously.

When he surveilled around a corner, he sighed. “Trust my ass to develop feelings for the one woman in this place who collects Funko-Pops, has a boyfriend, and is also a crazy cat lady. What the fuck is happening?” He heard a chuckle in his ear. He knew that voice. “Am I fucked?” Rumlow asked dryly, angling his gun to fire at someone.

“Mate,” Jack Rollins’ voice said in his ear comms, crackling with static, “seek help.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing! 
> 
> This chapter is for Lateo who suggested the "STRIKE guys trying to be wingmen..."

Darcy was getting coffee on Tuesday--Gerald was snoozing in her sweatshirt pocket--when she ran into part of a STRIKE team in the break room. “Morning, Miss Lewis,” the friendly Australian one said.

“Hello,” Darcy said.

“Jack Rollins,” he supplied, shaking her hand. “And Mike Rodriguez,” he said, gesturing to the guy next to him.

“Ma’am,” Rodriguez said.

“You know my name,” Darcy said.

“Yes,” they both said at once. “How are you--” Rodriguez began.

“Everything good in your lab?” Rollins asked. They’d both talked at once. 

“Yup and yup,” Darcy said, smiling. “We’re all good. We lost one piece of equipment, but it’s fixed now.”

“Great,” Rollins said. “We just got back from a mission.”

“Excellent,” Rodriguez said. “I heard Rumlow was working with y’all.”

“Yes, he was really helpful,” Darcy said. She refrained from mentioning that Gerald had done the lion’s share of the work. It made her want to giggle. Lion’s share from a kitten! Also, remembering how Rumlow had looked like a stunned fish.

“He’s great in a crisis, very calm,” Rollins said hurriedly. 

“Great boss,” Rodriguez said.

“Learned all my interrogation techniques from him,” Rollins said. 

“It’s just too bad that he’s worked so hard that he’s stayed single,” Rodriguez said.

“Too right,” Rollins said, looking surprised and then nodding vigorously. His jaw bobbed up and down. “He’s always single.” 

“Maintaining relationships when you love your work is difficult,” Darcy said politely, thinking of Thor and Jane. “Timing and all that.”

“That’s very true,” Rollins said, doing the nodding thing.

“Boss says the same thing,” Rodriguez said. “He’s looking for somebody special, though.”

“Nice girl, easy going type who understands his work--” Rollins said.

“Funny,” Rodriguez added. 

“Well, I hope he meets someone nice,” Darcy said. “Maybe he could try that new rock climbing group my boyfriend is starting--have you seen Ian’s flyers? I’m not into that, but he’s getting lots of interest--”

“No,” Rodriguez said, sighing, “I don’t think he wants somebody who is athletic like that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Rollins said, nodding. “Not a sporty girl. More like a--what would you call it?” he asked Rodriguez, looking odd.

“Homebody,” Rodriguez said. “Somebody who’d, uh, knit or whatever--” He seemed to be looking at Darcy’s knit cap.

“Oh,” she said. “That’s nice. I wish I could knit.”

“What do you like?” Rodriguez asked her.

“Um, well, I bake--brownies, not pot,” she said, laughing. “And I have a kitten.” She fished Gerald out of her pocket and they petted him. Both men looked a little nervous.

“This is him, huh?” Rodriguez said.

“Jane,” Darcy said, back in the lab, “have you noticed anything weird about those STRIKE guys since the HYDRA thingy?” It had been more than a week since that whole mess.

“No, why?” Jane said.

“So, they haven’t approached you?” Darcy said. “I keep running into them and it worries me.”

“Why?” Jane repeated, looking concerned.

“They all seem really friendly,” she added, eyebrows waggling. “Too friendly.”

“What are they planning?” Jane whispered back. “Those guys aren’t that nice.”

“What if”--she lowered her voice--”they’re aiming to weaponize Gerald?”

“Those assholes,” Jane said. “That is _exactly_ the kind of thing they’d do.”

“I should confront Rumlow,” Darcy said, standing up. She checked the directory on her phone. 

Only he wasn’t in his office. She sighed. She was turning to return to the lab when she ran into another STRIKE agent. “Hi,” Darcy said.

“Miss Lewis,” he said, smiling brightly. “You looking for the boss?”

“Yes,” Darcy said. “Do you know where he is?”

“His quarters, probably. 36B,” the guy said. His smile was wide. “I’m sure he’d be happy to see you.”

“Thanks,” Darcy said.

“You’re welcome,” the guy said, looking pleased with himself.

Darcy marched to Rumlow’s rooms and paused in front of the door. She squared her shoulders. You can do this, you tased Thor, she told herself. It didn’t matter that Rumlow was all stern and muscle-y and whatnot. Darcy wouldn’t let herself be intimidated. She rapped firmly on his door. There was a long beat. She heard someone moving inside and knocked again, more gently. “Just a sec!” he called out. He was talking as he opened the door. “What’s happening?” he said, towel around his head. His hair was wet. “Lewis, hi,” he said in a strange voice. Not that she was paying much attention to his words. She’d interrupted him during a shower.

_ There were beads of water dripping onto his shoulders and arms. _

_ His chest was bare and damp. _

_ Those abs. _

_ Jesus. _

_ A towel slung low over his hips. She swallowed. Those v-shaped muscles... _

_ Bare legs and feet. _

“Hello,” she said. 

“Hi,” he repeated, smiling. Then Gerald meowed in her pocket and it broke the lust-hold on her brain. She shook off the dazed feeling.

“I’m here to tell you that you’re not getting your hands on my cat,” she said.

“What?” he said, staring. 

“I know what you want. Your guys keep _ talking to me _, I know what that means,” she said firmly. She stepped back.

“What did they say?” he said, looking horrified.

“Just give up,” she told him, backing away. 

“Lewis, wait--” he said, moving to step into the hallway and follow her, then seeming to realize he was still in a towel. “I--just let me put on some fucking pants, okay? Then we can talk?”

“It’s not happening. You aren’t getting it,” Darcy said, turning to walk away.

“I don’t understand anything!” he called after her. “A little fucking help here?”

“Nope!” she yelled back. “I’m not giving it to you!”

"Jesus Christ. Fuck, what did they say?" she heard him muttering as she left the corridor. "Fuck," he repeated, just as the door shut with a whoosh. "Lewis, come back!"

He was so busted, Darcy thought. What kind of person schemed to weaponize your Flerkitten anyway?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Ian was doing his first rock climbing club on Saturday afternoon, so Darcy decided to have her first official Hygge day. It was unusually cold for late September and looked like it could drizzle rain at their secured SHIELD facility, anyway. She’d been drawn to the whole Scandinavian cozy thing when they’d translated the books into English. Her Norwegian sucked. She had a hygge book to read and had already joined an online group for suggestions. Darcy was going to do several things: Bake some butterscotch chip cookies, unbox the LED candles she’d ordered, turn off the main lights, and warm her blankets in the dryer. She put the butter out to soften, turned on the fake candles--”they flicker, Gerald!”--made hot chocolate, and settled in with her book. It was very relaxing. The only problem was, she kept thinking about Rumlow. Not just Rumlow. Him wrapped in a towel. Her book couldn’t hold her attention with that kind of competition. Her mind wandered. His hands were probably nice hands. His abs probably felt really nice. Was he a good kisser?

She sighed and tried to refocus on her book. “There’s a lot of stuff in this book about firewood,” she told Gerald out loud. The Flerkitten flicked his tail in response. “I wasn’t expecting that. I’m just not into actual flames, after all Jane’s lab fires.” 

She let the book slump in her hands and closed her eyes for a second, idly imagining what it would be like to touch him. Her mind was fully occupied and Gerald was purring when there was a knock on her door. “I hope that’s not Ian having a rain delay, he’ll be in a mood,” she told the Flerken. She and Ian had been having difficulties lately. He’d moved into the other bedroom because he said sharing a bed was interrupting his sleep. He’d been generally grumpy, too. Had their work for Jane not been SHIELD-classified, Darcy sometimes wondered if he’d have moved out. But there was a shortage of apartments in the facility. They felt stuck somehow. That was why she supported his new rock climbing club idea. They both needed to break out of the bored places they were in and possibly a break from each other. Darcy padded over to the door in her sock feet and opened it. The person on the other side was a surprise. “Rumlow?” she said, startled. 

“Hi,” he said. Then he smiled at her. She felt herself blush, acutely conscious of the fact that she’d just been fantasizing about him seconds before. “I came to, uh, talk to you?”

“Talk to me?” she said, letting him into the dim apartment. He stood in the middle of her living room, looked around at the flickering LED candles, the couch blankets, and rubbed his forehead as if he had a headache.

"I don't want to get my hands on...your cat," Rumlow said. Darcy frowned.

"Okay. What do you want, then?" she said. She noticed he was carrying a shopping bag. 

"I, uh, oh God. This is difficult---" he began, swallowing. His eyes scanned the room and fell on Gerald.

"You totally want my cat! I knew it!" she said.

"Goddammit, I don't want your cat, I want--I want--"

“Well?” Darcy glared at him. He did a sudden laugh, sounding edgy. “What do you want?” she asked.

“I don’t know what I want,” he said. He sighed. “You’ve, uh, you’ve got a nice apartment.” He sat down abruptly in her battered armchair, the one she and Jane had curb-dived for in the nearest town, putting the bag on the floor.

“You think my apartment’s nice?” Darcy said. All the units were the same. “The chair you’re sitting in came from an apartment complex when college let out.” He glanced behind him. Darcy had cleaned the leather and then covered it in a teal nubby throw that Gerald liked to dismember when he was bored.

“It’s comfortable,” he said, sounding stubborn. “You check it for bugs?”

“Animal or mechanical?”

“Both,” he said, smiling at her.

“Yes,” she told him. He looked around the apartment again, expression curious. Darcy watched him study the twinkle lights she’d hung around the apartment. She had a few strands. Plus, some hanging lights. They were firework shaped. She expected him to say something sarcastic; Ian hated her twinkle lights and her collection of painted tin milagros that were light enough to move anywhere as she traveled with Jane. Ian teased her about being tacky and disorganized. But instead, Rumlow turned back to look at her. 

“It’s a nice place. You okay?” he said.

“Huh?”

“You’re not sick?” he said, gesturing to her blankets on the couch. 

“Oh, no, I’m having a hygge day while Ian’s gone rock climbing,” she explained. “Scandinavian thing. I’m baking cookies, reading, trying to relax--”

“Oh, I gotcha. Well, uh, I wanted to apologize for the misunderstanding about Gerald and give you this,” he said, reaching for the bag. “I talked to Romanoff, but if you don’t like it--” His expression was serious.

“Oh,” Darcy said. She looked in the bag. It was a Funko box. “Rainbow Brite?” she said, grinning in spite of herself. “Oh my God, I _ loved _her as a kid--I went as her for Halloween!”

“Yeah,” he said, smiling. “You told Romanoff, so….” 

“I really love it,” she said, happily holding the box up and peering through the plastic. “Oh my God!”

“What?” he said.

“I totally forgot her sidekick is called Twink. New levels of awkwardness, childhood,” Darcy said, laughing. When she looked over at Rumlow, he was carefully dragging the blanket edge for Gerald. He glanced up at her with a tense expression.

“He’s not gonna swallow you, is he?” he said, frowning. There were lines between his eyes.

“Are you worried about that?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said. “God, yeah.” Then he leaned forward. “Fucking Reynolds is just_ in there.” _ His voice was a whisper.

“Oh, no,” Darcy said, shaking her head. “He coughed up Reynolds in the med bay after thirty minutes or so. Hill has him in jail. He’s alive. He was a little slimey and they had to pump his stomach for Flerken fluids, but he’s alive. Gerald can’t digest somebody that big yet. He gets an upset stomach, yorks ‘em back up again.” 

“Oh,” Rumlow said. 

“I can’t believe you’re worried Gerald would hurt me,” she said.

“That’s how Fury lost an eye,” Rumlow said. “I heard it was one of these.”

“Fury told me that was a total accident, Goose just got a little scared, Fury still likes cats and Flerken,” she explained. “He loves Gerald.”

“Okay,” Rumlow said, still frowning. He scratched the back of his head, flashing some tattoos at her. She hadn’t noticed them before; they were high on the underside of his arm. “I should probably go..” he said slowly. Darcy really looked at him then. She looked from Rumlow’s worried expression at Gerald to her face and then to the toy in her lap and back again. It dawned on her that the STRIKE guys had been talking about what a workaholic he was. He was probably lonely, she thought. There were little flecks of grey in the stubble along his jawline and a weariness around his eyes. 

“Okay,” she said, “but I could really use some help with these butterscotch cookies, if you don’t mind?” People like him needed to feel useful, not just social, right? Workaholics and perfectionists couldn’t just let themselves chill on her couch, Darcy thought. “Ian’ll be gone for hours and it’s just me here doing a Thor-sized cookie spree,” she added. He perked up immediately. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Be glad to help.”

***

“Whoa, whoa,” Darcy said. “Slow down, Agent Hottie! We have a cookie scoop for that!” She’d grabbed his arm when he attempted to slap a heaping spoon full of cookie batter on the sheet pan

“A what?” he said. His brain had stuttered when her fingers went around his forearm. She grinned at him and held up what looked like a small ice cream scoop. 

“This,” she said. She giggled. “That was funny. You were just attacking cookie placement.”

“This little?” he said, holding the scoop and pressing the button. “How’s that make a decent-sized cookie?”

“They spread,” she said. 

“They--” he said. He couldn’t think of an innocent meaning for a long moment, until he wrestled control of his brain back from his libido. “Yeah, okay,” he said, swallowing. “This--this’ll work.” He was obediently popping cookie dough onto the pans and discreetly watching Darcy whenever she moved or--fucking Christ--bent over in that damn apron. That was when she almost tripped over something and swore. “You okay, sweetheart?” he said, concerned.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine, Ian just left some of his gear in the kitchen, which is my pet peeve,” she said, grinning, “because I’m the one who trips. I’ll just go put it in his bedroom--”

“Let me, that stuff’s heavy,” Rumlow said, leaving the cookie dough, wiping his hands, and stepping over to carry it.

“Thank you,” she said. “His room is the one on the right. If you see twinkle lights, turn around,” she said in a joking voice.

When she'd said “Ian’s room,” he had envisioned a room for Ian’s stuff. But he was mistaken.

That was when he realized they didn’t share a bedroom: to his right was a dark room with climbing gear against one wall and a spartan-looking palette bed on the other. He set the stuff down and glanced across the hall. The two bedrooms were separated by a hallway and a small closet for a stacked washer-dryer unit, just like the one in his unit. The other room was clearly Darcy’s; not only could he see twinkle lights, her bed was covered in a teal bedspread and various pillows, including a fluffy cupcake and a teddy bear. It was messier, but had more personality. There were books on the nightstand and what he thought were photos of Jane and Thor hung on the wall. He stepped back into the kitchen feeling puzzled. She must’ve caught his look. “I keep him from sleeping well,” she said breezily, but he saw a tightness in her throat that hadn’t been there before. “I toss and turn and my clutter bothers him,” she added.

“Some people have trouble sharing space,” he said, trying to be neutral._ Be cool, _ his brain told him. _ She’s obviously sad about this. You can hate the boyfriend later. _

“So, now me and Gerald share a room,” Darcy said. 

“That’s reassuring,” he said dryly.

“You can’t actually be worried he’ll murder me?” Darcy said. On the coffee table, Gerald was gently thumping the Rainbow Brite Funko with his paw. “Look at that cute face, Brock!” she said.

“Yeah, I saw how cute he was with Reynolds,” he said dryly. She swatted at him with a dishtowel. He scoffed, then washed his hands and returned to the cookies. “Help me with these butterscotch things, honey,” he said, trying to coax her closer. Did she mind people being close, he wondered? That was what he wanted to know. He got his answer when she butted in under his arm to demonstrate something cookie-related. He was half paying attention, half enjoying her presence. “Why do I smell syrup?” he wondered aloud.

“Oh, sorry! That’s me. My perfume is Demeter Waffles,” she said. She laughed. “I’m sure you think you’ve just wandered into me and my murder kitten’s big kid daycare.”

“No,” he said. “Not at all. I’m having a great time.”

“I worry about your fun levels, Commander,” she said in a teasing voice that thrilled him. It was difficult to resist the urge to crowd her with his hips, press her against the counter’s edge, kiss her neck and….. He let out a slow, quiet breath.

“You do this hygge thing a lot?”

“Nope,” she said. “First time!” He almost choked on his tongue.

“Yeah?” he said, shaking his head a little behind her back to get the sexual thoughts out of his mind. “What else do you like?” he asked. “Funkos, cookies, murder kittens…?” She tilted her head back and looked at him, smiling.

“Today has been fun,” she said. “You feel like popcorn after this? Maybe stay and watch a movie with me?” 

“Yeah,” he said. “Sure, I’d like that.”

“Okey dokey,” Darcy said.

They ended up sitting on the couch together, under her blankets, laughing and making fun of the movies. He kept her supplied with spiked hot chocolate, so she’d tell him things she liked. Getting her to talk about herself without it veering off into funny stories about Jane, Thor, or Ian was difficult. Mostly, he said things to make her laugh. “Just--just what the fuck is that voice?” he said, gesturing with the remote at the black and white movie. “Why does everybody in old movies talk like that?” He tried his best to do the voice. Darcy burst out laughing. He couldn’t do the voice.

“That’s terrible,” she said, rubbing Gerald’s ears.

“I’m shit at impressions,” he said. “Too New York for it.”

“That, sir, is what is called a Mid Atlantic accent and it was considered a fancypants, refined accent back in the day, they taught it in the theatah, my good man,” she joked.

“Okay, my Mid Atlantic accent is shit,” he said, smiling. “Yours ain’t bad, though.” He flicked a bit of her hair.

“I do appreciate your compliments,” she said in the same voice, then dissolved into giggles. “I still can’t believe you said that about Cary Grant!” Darcy said. 

“I’m just saying, if he shot people more, he wouldn’t end up in these complicated surveillance situations,” Brock said, half-seriously. She was actually leaning against him and shaking with laughter when Ian walked in, dropping his backpack with a thud. 

“Hullo,” he said. “What have I missed?”

“Ian does the accent really well,” Darcy said, between giggles.

“I bet so,” Brock said lightly. Ian looked at him, frowning.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> there was request for Brock cuddling Gerald from Pysslis, so here we are....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

Of course, she and Ian had a fight after Brock left. Ian made some smug remark about how he didn’t know hygge included STRIKE Commanders and that set Darcy off. “I’m trying to make friends, all right? Isn’t that what we’re both doing?”

“Fine,” Ian snapped. “Enjoy your new  _ friend.”  _ Then he went into his room to sulk. He did that. Darcy was pissed. She was still upset after their silent, tense dinner and a brief visit from Jane and Thor for cookies. She could tell Jane could tell, too. She was sitting on her bed with Gerald and Rainbow Brite when Jane texted.

**Queen Jane of Science and Asgard: ** What’s wrong?

**World’s Okayest Assistant:** Ian is sulking b/c Rumlow was here, apologizing. He brought me a gift [photo]. 

**World’s Okayest Assistant: ** Rainbow Brite!

**Queen Jane of Science and Asgard: ** awwwww, cute!

**World’s Okayest Assistant: ** we were having fun, until Ian came home. He’s nice, Janey.

In the past, she would have back-burnered a friendship—especially with a guy—that threatened Ian. But now she didn’t feel like it. Rumlow was a friend she wanted to keep. She told Ian that in the morning. He looked at her, frowning. “You’re serious?” he said.

“Yes.” 

“I’m supposed to just let you hang out with him? Alone?”

“Don’t you trust me?” she asked.

He made several incoherent sounds, then went into the labs early, leaving Darcy in her pajamas. She looked at Gerald. “Well,” Darcy said. “That went easier than I thought.” The Flerken meowed.

The first thing she did was invite Rumlow to future hygge afternoons, the next time they saw each other. He grinned at her. “Really?” he said. “Boothby doesn’t mind? Cause I thought, I mean, he don’t like me much—”

“Nope,” Darcy lied. “It’s all good.”

“Okay, yeah,” Rumlow said. “I’d, uh, like that.” He looked like he actually meant it, which was sweet. On top of that, Ian announced he wanted to work through lunch in the labs, so he could pursue another hobby: bird watching in the mornings before work. It meant he’d be going to bed early and got up hours before Darcy. She thought he might be punishing her in some way, depriving her of his attention. But, ironically, it meant she and Jane had lunch by themselves to enjoy and Jane talked about work less than she would have with Ian there. They were a few days into Ian’s new bird watching schedule when some of the STRIKE guys asked if they could sit with them.

“Sure,” Jane said.

“Awesome,” Darcy said. “How are things, Jack?”

“Bonzer,” he said. “Where’s Ian?”

“Working in the labs, he bird watches in the mornings now and goes to bed early,” she explained. “He’s trying new hobbies.”

“Uh huh,” Smith said, giving Jack a significant-looking glance that Darcy didn’t understand. But they had a great time and Jack even waved over Rumlow when he arrived for lunch. He sat next to Jane and smiled across the table at Darcy.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hey,” he said. For a minute, his smile made her feel a weird lurch in her stomach. “Everything going okay?”

“Yup,” she said. “Great.”

Their second hygge night was going to be fun, Darcy realized, once Ian left for his climbing excursion. Jane and Thor were going to come, too; she’d already put Thor’s favorite M&M cookies in the oven when there was a knock on the door. Darcy hurried over and swung the door open. Rumlow was standing there with a tin tucked under his arm. “Hi!” she said. “Whatcha got?”

“You like popcorn, right?” he said. “Caramel, whatever the hell this stuff they’re calling cheddar cheese is---”

“Very funny,” Darcy said, seizing his forearm. “Get in here, Agent Sarcasm.”

“Last week I was Agent Hottie,” he complained, as she shut the door behind him. “Where’s the cat? I got him some cat treats.”

“Look at you, being all hospitable,” she said. 

“My ma raised me right,” he said. Then he sniffed. “You make cookies again?”

“Yup,” she said, then realized they were both just standing there, smiling. “You want to help me light my candles?” she joked.

“Sure,” he said. When she walked over, picked one up and flicked the switch, he laughed. They went all over the room, turning on candles and then Rumlow grinned at her. 

“What?” she said.

“You want me to build you a fire?” he said.

“These apartments don’t have fireplaces,” Darcy said.

“I have special skills,” he said.

“Okay, Commander,” she said. “Demonstrate those special skills of yours?” 

“All right,” he said. Then he leaned over and fished her remote off the coffee table and hit a few buttons. “Here you go,” he said, as the TV screen lit up and started to crackle. Darcy burst out laughing.

“The streaming Yule Log video on Netflix?” she said. He looked pleased with himself. “That’s your special skill?” she teased.

“Creativity is a special skill,” he said, mock pouting. Darcy grinned. 

“Uh-huh,” she said. “Do you want a drink?” 

“Sure, sweetheart--and I thought the girl with fake candles would appreciate a fake fire,” Rumlow said.

“I do!” she called back. Darcy went to the kitchen for drinks and returned minutes later. She could hear Rumlow talking and had thought he was on the phone. But it was just him and Gerald. He was sitting on her couch, surrounded by flameless candles and a crackling TV fire, talking to the cat. She had a sudden, overwhelming thought:  _ I wish every night was like this.  _

“You’re a good buddy, huh? You taking care of Darcy?” he was saying, when she stopped to lean against the wall going into the kitchen. He looked up and smiled at her. “What movie are we making fun of tonight?”

“Thor’s picking one,” she said. “He’s back, visiting Jane. I figured you wanted to meet him.”

“Great,” he told her. “I opened your popcorn.”

“Are you actually feeding Gerald the caramel corn?” she said, laughing and setting down the drinks.

“He likes it,” Rumlow insisted.

“You used to be terrified of him!” she said.

“I think he likes me now,” he told her, expression serious.

“Are you bros with my Flerkitten?” she said, smiling. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Do I get to be friends with Thor?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t you?”

“Him and Jane--?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. Everyone at SHIELD knew Jane and Thor had been on and off recently.

“They’re working on it,” she explained. “But they really, really love each other.” Darcy sighed wistfully. She wished for love like that sometimes. Thor had checked on Jane nightly for two years. Two years!

“Something wrong?” he said, putting his arm over the back of the couch and seeming to study her. 

“Nah,” she lied. “Aren’t you going to have some of the cheddar popcorn?”

“Do I have to?” he said, mock-pouting. “It’s poison!”

“No, I won’t make you,” she said, laughing. “But I did ask Thor to bring Mjolnir, so you could try to lift it,” she told him. His face lit up.

“You’re amazing, Lewis,” he said, apparently sincerely. “Have I told you that enough?” Her mouth dropped open. Her brain was still formulating a response when Thor’s booming knock echoed in the room and Rumlow hopped up.

“I’ll get it,” he said, purposefully mussing her hair on the way to the door.

“Hey!” she said. Intelligently.    
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The way to a woman's heart is through her...cat?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

The four of them were having a great time--Brock kept trying to lift Mjolnir and trying to talk Gerald into helping him via Flerken strength, which made Darcy giggle--when Jane asked Darcy to help her with more cookies. “What’s up, buttercup?” Darcy asked. She knew Jane’s serious face. Jane sighed.

“I just got a text from Ian asking for a few days off to go on a climbing trip,” Jane said. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. “He hasn’t mentioned a trip?” She was putting cookies on a plate and shrugged at Jane. “I don’t mind if you don’t,” she added.

“I thought you would have mentioned it, if you knew,” Jane said. She crossed her arms. “Darce, have you ever thought about, um, the future?”

“Time travel?” Darcy said, wondering if her spiked hot cocoa was making it more difficult to follow Jane’s topic changes.

“No, not work,” Jane said. “Your future with Ian.”

“Oh,” Darcy said. She blew out air in a puff. “Do I have a future with Ian? Sometimes, I wonder, Janeybug…”

“If you might be happier with Brock?” Jane whispered.

“Jane!” Darcy said. “Shhhhh.”

“Well, I’m just saying, he seems  _ very  _ interested, you get along so well, he’s got those abs….” she was saying, when a panicked Darcy clapped a hand over Jane’s mouth.

“Quiet! He had a HYDRA serum. What if he has that Captain America hearing?” Darcy said in a low voice, horrified.

“Whoops,” Jane muttered.

“I should have never told you about the towel thing,” Darcy grumbled. Jane giggled. 

“You couldn’t stop talking about it,” she whispered. “For days!”

“So yummy,” Darcy said, clasping a hand over her heart and fanning herself. “But be realistic, he doesn’t want someone like me—”

“Darce,” Jane said.

“What are you talking about in there?” Thor boomed. “I sense mischief!”

“Nooooooo!” Jane and Darcy yelled in unison. When Darcy stuck her head out of the kitchen, Brock was trying to lift Mjolnir. And failing. Gerald was sitting on the hammer, looking up at him with a curious expression. 

“No luck?” Darcy asked. He looked at her, grinned, and pushed his hair back off his forehead.

“I ain’t giving up yet,” he said. 

“He is incredibly stubborn,” Thor said, looking pleased.

“I think it’s nice,” Jane said. “You shouldn’t give up on things you want, Brock.” Darcy shot her a look, but Jane was purposefully avoiding Darcy’s gaze.

“But maybe pause for a cookie?” Darcy offered.

“I could do that,” Brock said. She eventually talked him into a second and even a third cookie--a Rumlow record. “You’re going to wreck my abs,” he joked, as he followed her into the kitchen. 

“That would be a crime,” Darcy admitted. “Someone could have me arrested for that.” He laughed. And he sat next to her on the couch as they watched a movie. Closer than normal, because Thor took up space.

“Comfy?” Brock asked her.

“Yeah,” she said. He even smelled good. Warm. What the heck was that, she wondered? Every time he turned his head or moved his arm behind her, she got a whiff of something pleasantly woody. Not overbearing or screechy or metallic. Just...good. She rested her head against his arm for a fraction of a second and inhaled slowly. When she cut her eyes at him, he was focused on the screen. So she did it again. 

“What are you doing, Lewis?” he teased on a low voice. That startled her. She couldn’t think of a lie.

“You smell good,” she whispered. He nodded. When Jane and Thor left after heckling their way through one of those car race heist movies, neither of them moved. “Thank you for doing this,” Darcy said.

“What? Hanging out with you?” Brock said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m the lucky one.” He was playing with one of Gerald’s toys. “But I should probably go.” 

“Boooo,” she said. “Everyone leaves me!” She made her voice mock-whiny. He smirked. 

“I’ll be back,” Brock said. “We’ve got a mission tomorrow, I might need to borrow your kitten.”

That made her laugh. 

“Very cute,” Darcy said. They talked for awhile before he finally left. She was sad to see him go. Then Darcy curled up on the couch with the TV fireplace and Gerald. The Flerkitten purred in her lap. Thirty minutes later, Ian came back. She heard his key in the door. “Hello,” she called out. He stepped into the living room looking pale and disheveled.

“Everyone gone?” he said.

“Yup,” she said. “How was your day?”

“Fine. I’m going on a climbing trip,” Ian announced. “I cleared it with Jane.”

“She told me,” Darcy said. “I’m okay with it, as long as you’re having fun? Did you want some cookies?” She stood to get him some, sliding Gerald onto a couch cushion.

“No,” Ian said, looking odd. “No thank you.”

“Are you sure? You seem tired,” she said. “A little chocolate could help--”

“It won’t help,” Ian snapped. He went into his room, leaving a stunned Darcy standing there. She looked at Gerald.

“What the freaking flip was that?” she asked the Flerkitten. Gerald batted idly at the edge of the couch pillow. “Is nobody talking to me around here or what?” Darcy wondered aloud.

***

Brock woke up with a jolt. Adrenaline was coursing through his body. It took him a moment to recollect his surroundings. He was back from his latest mission. They had only been gone eighteen hours. He was in his own apartment at the facility, in his own bed. Alone. He sighed and got out of bed, looking around the empty, chilly room.. Brock didn’t want to be alone. He moved to his kitchenette for a glass of water and drank it standing in front of the fridge. It was the strangest thing, he thought, rubbing his face. He leaned against the counter. He didn’t normally dream all that much. But he’d had a dream about Darcy. Not even a sexual dream--he had plenty of those thoughts during the day. No, he’d dreamed that Ian had disappeared. And that he had moved in to comfort a grieving Darcy and turned Ian’s room into a room for the cat. He crawled into the bed and stared at the ceiling. Why the fuck was he having dreams like that? And could you really make rooms for a cat? He got his phone off the nightstand.

He’d slept very little when he went in for STRIKE Alpha’s weekly team meeting the next morning. “You all right?” Jack asked quietly, when he entered the conference room and saw Brock gazing into middle distance near the single window. 

“Yeah,” Brock said, rocking back on his heels. They were waiting for the rest of the team. “I had the weirdest dream last night…” he said. 

“Weird dream?” Jack said, frowning and walking over. “Like a nightmare?” 

“No, no,” Brock said. He glanced down at his shoes. “I, uh, dreamed that Boothby disappeared and I moved in with Lewis and the Flerken.” When he looked back up, Jack looked thoughtful.

“Disappeared?” he said, voice shifting from concerned to contemplative. Brock knew that tone.

“I don’t want you to disappear him,” Brock said, frowning.

“What about Romanoff?” Jack said, raising an eyebrow. “She’d do it, she hates the way he scolds Lewis. We’ve been trying to get you two together more, but with him out of the way…” 

“Wait, how does he scold Lewis?” Brock asked. 

“Just not the right man for her, mate. Doesn’t like her hobbies, real distant, dismissive remarks, that kind of thing,” Jack said, gesturing.

“Shit,” Brock muttered, “what am I supposed to do about that? I knew I didn’t like him, but I figured it was just because he could tell I was interested...”

“Romanoff knows how to hide a body.”

“Jack…” Brock said, sighing and rubbing his face. He felt like he’d been doing that a lot recently.

“It’d be less suspicious if it wasn’t one of us,” he said out loud. 

  
  


***

Ian left on his trip and Darcy found herself relieved. It was nice not to deal with his sulking, she thought. The only thing troubling her was that she overheard one of the new techs asking if she was “Rumlow’s girlfriend” after lunch. It made her feel a mix of emotions: it was flattering to think someone thought she was  _ Brock’s  _ girlfriend, given his generous hottie quotient. For a second, she’d felt a wave of giddiness. It must be because she and Brock were spending so much time together and people assumed, right? But she also fretted that he had a girlfriend she didn’t know about. And then she felt jealous. And more guilty. And then she felt guilty about mentally wondering what it would be like to date him. Or sleep with him. She’d immediately scolded herself internally for treating Ian like that. It was a lot, feelings-wise. She talked to Jane about it and Jane gave her a look. “What?” Darcy said.

“You have feelings for Brock,” Jane said.

“You don’t have to sound so smug, Science Lady.”

“I think you should tell him,” she insisted.

“I live with Ian!” Darcy said. “Have you forgotten?”

“Has he?” Jane muttered. “I could fire him…”

“Jane!” 

A day or two later, Darcy was sorting some of Jane’s notes when there was a knock at her door. She shuffled over and opened it. Brock was standing there. “Hey!” she said, excited. Then she had a nagging wave of guilt.

“I had, uh, an idea while we were on that mission,” he said. He had a trash bag in his hand. The sides stuck out. It was full of stuff.

“An idea?” Darcy said. His expression was slightly awkward.

“Cat tree made out of boxes,” he said. “I got a bunch of boxes and stuff from shipping and supplies.”

“Awwwww,” Darcy said. “Come on in.” He followed her into the apartment, then stopped when he saw her paperwork. 

“Am I interrupting?” he said.

“Nope,” she said. “Ian being gone means I can hog the whole table. He hates that, but it helps me figure out my organizing. I need space.”

“Space,” he said, nodding. “You need space.” Something strange flickered across his expression and then he smiled gently again when he realized she was looking at him. “I got a Youtube on this. You have duct tape?”

“Of course,” she said. “Is it going to show?” 

“Yeah? Why?”

“I have colors,” Darcy said, delighted. “Sit down. You want some cheese balls?” She gestured to the giant container on the table. 

“They still make those?” he said. Then he looked at her. “Do you ever eat vegetables?”

“Shut up!” she said, laughing. He’d said it in a mystified voice, not a judgmental one. 

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t mean it like--”

“I know,” she said. “Also, I like some vegetables. Green beans, broccoli and, um, salad stuff?”

“Uh-huh,” he said, petting Gerald. The Flerkitten meowed. “He’s totally ratting you out, Lewis.”

“You two hush,” she said. She was getting him healthier snacks and he was assembling boxes when Darcy leaned out of the kitchen. “Can a cat rat you out?” she mused. He barked out a sharp laugh.

They went through the cat tree videos together on her laptop. “I like that one,” Darcy said, picking out a stack of three boxes made into a house shape.

“That’s more a house than a cat tree, we wouldn’t need to anchor it to the wall,” Brock said. “It’s easier, but I’m happy to anchor one. You sure that’s what you want to do?”

“Yeah,” Darcy said, warming to the idea of a cozy little house for Gerald. “We can decorate it! Maybe hang a bell or some cat toys?”

“Sure,” he said. “I’ll do all the cutting.” He wouldn’t let her near the boxcutters. But all the holes he cut were very neat. She told him how impressed she was and he grinned. “Oh, yeah, sure. I did that six-week special forces training in combat knife work just for cat trees,” he joked. The two of them sat on her living room floor as he cut. Once he’d assembled and glued together the box, Darcy made him stop for a snack. “You’re feeding me now?” he said.

“Yup,” Darcy said. “I am. Do you want some wine, now that we’re done with the sharp objects and glue?” 

“Sure, sweetheart,” he said. When Darcy brought him a glass, he smiled at her. “Thank you.” He was holding Gerald and dangling a bit of Darcy’s yarn. 

“You’re welcome,” she said, feeling herself blush. God, why was he so stupidly handsome? Darcy was seriously tempted to ask whether or not he was seeing someone. But she didn’t know how to ask without just directly asking. She had to make herself shift back to the project. They spent some time looking over duct tape options. 

“You think he really wants your smiley face tape and not the space print?” Brock teased, as Darcy took the duct tape rolls out of their plastic bin. He pointed to the galaxy print. 

“Smiley face is good,” she insisted. “Also, the galaxy is Jane’s. We never use the galaxy.”

“No?” He arched an eyebrow. 

“It’s her favorite,” Darcy stressed, hiding it again.

“She keeps her duct tape with you?” Brock said. 

“Coulson seized her duct tape in New Mexico, she hoards and has several stashes now,” Darcy explained. “This is galaxy stash numero tres, I think?”

“Seriously?” he said, then laughed. “That’s too good. The tiny genius has a duct tape hoard.”

“For years, she made all her own stuff. Materials are important to her,” Darcy said.

“I’m particular about my knives,” he admitted.

“Blue and purple leopard print?” Darcy said, holding up a roll. It was neon. She thought he'd laugh.

“Oh yeah, that’s the one,” Brock said, surprising her. “That’s got style. Isn’t that right, my man?” he called to Gerald. She looked back towards the couch. The Flerkitten was busy batting around the toys that Darcy had brought with the idea of hanging them in the house. “I really like, uh, your place,” Brock said suddenly. He was taping the boxes together neatly, so the duct tape acted as an accent color. It had been Darcy’s idea to tape around the exits and holes.

“You said that before,” Darcy said, laughing. “So, you must mean it.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” he said.

“Nothing matches, I’ve got dorm room twinkle lights everywhere, and I like purple and turquoise too much--” she began.

“Boothby say that?” he asked, sounding flinty.

“Nah,” Darcy said. “I mean, sometimes, yeah. He goes back and forth.” Why was he asking about Ian, she wondered? “Why?” she asked.

“Just heard somebody say he criticizes you sometimes,” he said. “Which is bullshit.” He paused.

“Oh,” Darcy said, not sure what to say. She drank some wine instead.

“Would you decorate my place?” he asked. 

“Huh?” Darcy said, without meaning to sound shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah. Yeah,” he said.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Okay,” Darcy said, mulling over decorating. He wanted her to decorate his place? “Do you have a budget?” she wondered aloud.

“Uh,” he said. “Whatever you want?” His expression seemed lost. 

“Are you nuts? I love spending other peoples’ money,” she joked. “Can I see your place when we’re done?” They’d almost finished Gerald’s little house.

“Sure,” he said. “What else do you want to add?”

“More things for Gerald to whack at,” Darcy said. “He likes that.” She held up a sparkling cat toy. It was made of purple tinsel stuff. 

“Me, too,” Brock said. “It’s a good feeling.”

“What?” Darcy said, momentarily confused.

“Boxing,” he said. “It’s fun to just---boom,” he gestured as if landing a punch. She smiled at him.

***

Brock had no fucking idea why he’d asked Lewis to redecorate his place, except that he wanted any excuse to spend time with her. Also, spending time at her place made him realize how cold and empty his apartment was. He’d started going to the twenty-hour hour SHIELD gym to workout after hygge night, ostensibly because she was feeding him cookies, but mostly because his apartment had started to depress him. Now she was going to see how boring he was. Shit. He hadn’t thought this through. “Uhh,” he said, looking over his shoulder as he unlocked his door. Darcy was standing behind him, holding the Flerken. “It’s kinda...basic,” he said. “My place. That’s why I need you. Your help, I mean.” Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Okay,” she said. “But what kinds of things do you want to do?” She sounded puzzled. 

“Anything you’d like,” he said, then cringed. He was being too obvious. “I like the way your place seems comfortable.”

“Okay,” she said, as he swung the door open and the air circulated with a whoosh. They stepped inside. His apartment was standard issue. Minimal furniture. SHIELD training manuals on his single bookshelf. No artwork. No pillows, except on the bed. The bed, he thought with a sudden spike of heat low in his belly. She would be in his bedroom. Darcy was looking around while he imagined what it would be like to have sex with her in every room. “Brock?” she said, putting a wiggling Gerald down on the floor. “You okay?” She was looking at him and he’d been thinking about sex in the kitchen.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m good.” He cleared his throat, then walked over to the wall safe where he kept his handguns. They were standard issue in the STRIKE apartments. “I’m going to give you something,” he said, then realized how it sounded.

“What?” she said, smiling.

“Cash for your project,” he said, moving closer to her and handing her the money he kept next to the gun. He tried not to show a reaction when their hands touched. Darcy was looking at him oddly. 

“Ummm, this is five-hundred dollars?” she said.

“I can give you more--”

“Oh my God,” she said. “How fancypants do you want this to be? Because this is serious decorating money.”

“Use as much as you want,” he said, smiling and taking a step forward. He looked down at her, grinning. She grinned back. Something electric seemed to pass between them. Unless he was imagining it?

“Can I see your bedroom?” she asked. There was an almost flirtatious glint her eye.

“Sure,” he said. They stared at each other for a second.

“Okay,” she said. “Bedroom.”

“Bedroom,” he repeated, automatically licking his lips. He pointed to the door and watched as she walked through. Was it wishful thinking or had she put a little swing in her hips? He exhaled. Sitting on his kitchen table, Gerald meowed. “All right,” he muttered in a low voice. “Bedroom.”

When he got in the room, a shoeless Darcy was on her knees in his bed. She looked at him. “I’m trying to decide if I should buy you a pillowtop with all this money,” she said, wiggling.

“You’re testing my mattress?” he said---and immediately wished he could reel it back in. He’d said it suggestively. She laughed. 

“You just had a moment of panic,” Darcy told him. “You should have seen your face. You looked like you took a wrong turn in a rough neighborhood.”

“Don’t wanna make you feel uncomfortable,” he said, swallowing. 

“I’m not,” she said. “Your bed’s pretty comfy. I would probably be very comfortable.” She gave him a wicked look and bounced a little. The motion made her whole body jiggle. He groaned.

“I’m only human. Don’t tease me like that, Lewis,” he said, trying not to stare at her boobs. 

“Do you, uh, have a girlfriend--” she began and he was already shaking his head.

“No, no girlfriend,” he said. Her expression brightened.

“I’ve been meaning to ask because--” 

“But what about Boothby, huh?” he said. That shook her, he could tell. She seemed to deflate and all the playful mischief left her expression. Her shoulders sank. Then Darcy frowned, lines springing up on her forehead as she stuck out her bottom lip. Even her sad face was cute to him. He wanted to kiss her. Make her really wiggle on his bed. 

“Damn it,” she muttered. “I didn’t think of him.” She started to move off the bed. “I should go, really. I don’t know what I’m thinking. He’d be so upset if he knew....”

“Don’t, uh….fuck,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “Fuck. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“No,” she said, leaving the bedroom and getting Gerald. He followed her. “You did the right thing, Brock. Thanks for being such a good friend.”

“Lewis, I--” he said, wanting to say a thousand different things, starting with  _ please let me fuck you  _ and ending with  _ I could toss Boothby off a mountain if you want me to? _

“Nothing’s changed, not really,” she said. “You did the right thing. I’ll start decorating your place tomorrow, okay? Do it up all pretty.” She looked embarrassed. “And I won’t harrass you, I promise.”

“You haven’t--” he was saying, as the door shut behind her. “Shit.”

He went to the gym and ran on the treadmill for an hour. He was sure the security cameras picked up his audible swearing as his feet hit the machine with rhythmic thumps. “Fuck. Fuck. Motherfucker.” He kept going until he was exhausted.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Darcy. He needed to talk to her.

He was still damp with sweat and anxiously miserable when he knocked at her door. It was late. He was probably insane. He heard her footsteps behind the door. She was going to cuss at him. He tried to think of something to say as the door opened slowly. Everything he’d thought of on the treadmill suddenly left his brain. A sleepy-eyed, pajama-clad Darcy looked at him. Gerald threaded between her ankles. 

“Brock?” she said, blinking. She looked impossibly soft. He felt desperate to touch her. He needed a shower. And a plan. He should have made one. He was a goddamned STRIKE commander. As if she’d read his mind, she spoke. “You’re all sweaty,” she said, sounding confused.

“I was at the gym,” he said. There was a pause. “I really want to fuck you. Shit. That came out wrong. I didn’t mean--look, if Boothby don’t treat you right, you deserve better. That’s what I wanted to say. You deserve somebody better than him,” he said finally. “Tonight, when you said--”

“I don’t think we should--” Darcy began. Gerald meowed. Loudly. He did it again. She looked down and back at Brock. “Come inside,” she said. She’d shut the door behind him and was sighing at the cat when he spoke again. 

“Lemme touch you,” he said. She looked at him with a shocked expression. “We’ll figure out the rest later, if you want to,” he added. 

***

Jack and Rodriguez were moving quietly through the woods. “Where did Smitty say he thought Boothby and the woman might be camped?” Rodriguez asked. Smith and several STRIKE agents had been going to Boothby’s climbing group. Along with a very attractive woman in Legal. Boothby was paying her a lot of attention. 

“Somewhere southwest of here,” Jack said, adjusting his night vision goggles. 


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Darcy,” Brock said in a warm voice. He’d backed her against the wall just inside her door. His arms were on either side of her shoulders. She felt transfixed. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from his face as he leaned in to kiss her. “Baby, I want you so much,” he said. She nodded, unable to speak.

She wanted Brock to kiss her. 

She _shouldn’t_ want him to kiss her. 

Ian was her boyfriend. She was supposed to love Ian. What was wrong with her? “Brock,” she said, “no.” He paused, close to her face and she turned her head away. She felt his breathing against her face and the drag of his nose against her cheek. "No, please," she repeated.

“No?” he said softly. “You don’t want--”

“Ian,” she said quietly. “It doesn’t matter what I want, I’m with Ian. We live together,” Darcy told him. “So, I can’t. Not until I talk to him. I care about him.” She couldn’t say the words, _ I love Ian. _

“Yeah,” Brock said. He sighed. He didn’t pull away, though. “You know I’m here when you’re ready. As soon as you’re ready,” he added. His look was soft. Surprising her, Brock brushed a little of her hair aside and leaned in again. He kissed her forehead very gently. Darcy had to squeeze her eyes shut for a second, the tension was so high. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and kiss him desperately. He moved back then and Darcy saw him swallow roughly. “Whenever that happens--” His voice trailed off. “I’m here, okay? I’m here for you.”

“I should talk to Ian,” she said slowly, feeling like she had done something horrible, even though nothing had really happened. 

She’d wanted it to happen and that was the upsetting thing. She still did, as she looked at a wild-eyed, gym-sweaty Brock Rumlow, she realized. Genuinely wanted him. He blinked at her. Darcy didn’t know what to say or do. “I’ll go,” he said finally. She felt her shoulders sag in relief. He wasn’t going to make her ask. 

“Thank you,” she told him. He looked at her and grimaced slightly as she shut the door. Once the door was locked, she felt compelled to hide in her room. If she stayed out there, she might try to follow Brock.

Darcy hadn’t gotten to her bed before the first wave of crushing sadness hit. She slumped down on the bed and cried. Gerald prowled around her, meowing piteously, as she sobbed until she shook. It had just dawned on her that if she lost Brock’s presence, she would be terribly lonely again. That had been where this started: the loneliness and gulf between the two of them. She and Ian. She felt so distant from Ian, like they hadn’t really connected in months. What should she do? “I’m so unhappy,” she told the Flerken in a choked voice. “So unhappy. What’s wrong with me?”

Gerald meowed and pushed his head against her arm. His cries were plaintive. Darcy wiped her tears away roughly with the back of her hand. She needed to pull herself together. Feed the Flerken, get control of herself. She hated crying. She was an ugly, loud, blotchy crier. Ian teased her for crying embarrassingly loudly at sad movies. He would know she had been crying tonight if he saw her. She sniffled and sat up, reaching for a tissue. “I don’t even know when he’s coming home,” she told Gerald, meaning Ian. “He never talks to me anymore. I bore him.” Gerald yowled. “I’m the world’s shittiest girlfriend,” she said morosely. She picked up her phone and dialed. “I should see Ian, try to work on things,” she rambled out loud. “I owe him that.”

Gerald made a hissing sound.

“Ian?” she said, when he answered.

“Darcy?” He sounded strained.

“Can you come home, please?” she asked. She burst into tears again. 

“What happened?” he said. 

“I just really need to talk to you,” she sobbed.

“All right, all right,” he said. “I’ll come home, Darce.”

***

Ian hung up the phone and looked up at Jack Rollins. “Darce wants me to come home,” he said. “Are we done here, gentlemen?” His campsite had been ambushed by two--or three, he wasn’t sure--members of the STRIKE team. They had found him alone and proceeded to ask a bunch of pointed questions about Rachel. They knew, he’d realized. 

“We’d appreciate it if you, uh, didn’t mention this to Darcy,” Jack told him, looking embarrassed.

“Of course,” Ian said, calling on all his British resolve. He could shame an Australian, he thought. Just treat him like an inferior. “I won’t tell Darcy about you dropping in unannounced and you won’t mention your unfounded suspicions to her,” he said archly.

“Of course,” Rollins said. He looked sheepish.

“It wasn’t a question,” Ian said, trying for public school haughtiness. He’d gone to uni with men who sneered, “I’ll be packing up now,” he announced. “You’re excused.”

“He’s a fuckface,” Rodriguez grumbled to Jack, when they headed back to the SUV. “Why’d he clap when I searched the tent?” They’d found no proof of the woman. 

“British thing,” Jack said. “They clap to show scorn.”

“Like I said, fuckface,” Rodriguez. “What if he tells Rumlow?”

“We’ll have to tell him,” Jack said, sighing. “He’ll be angry with me for interfering.”

“Smith was sure,” Rodriguez said. “Smith has good instincts. He was sure.”

“He must’ve been wrong,” Jack said, sighing heavily. 

"Can't be," Rodriguez insisted. "Something's up."

  


Ian watched the STRIKE guys leave and packed up his tent and belongings. When he got to the car, Ian dialed a number on his phone. She answered on the second ring. “Hi,” she said, voice low. He thought she sounded tired. It made him feel sad and guilty.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he said. “I’m leaving now.”

“Oh,” she said. “What happened?” 

“I ran into some STRIKE guys, Rachel, I’m sorry,” he told her. “We’ll have to cancel.”

“It’s all right,” she said. Rachel had been delayed by work; he’d expected her in the morning. It was only a coincidence that they hadn’t been caught together. “Why were they there?”

“They asked about you,” he admitted. “Someone must’ve seen something.”

“Ian,” she said. “It’s time for you to tell her.”

“I know,” he said. “I’ve been waiting on the apartment to come through…”

“What if they tell her?” Rachel said. “That _ thing _she has could eat you!”

“Gerald wouldn’t eat me,” Ian said doubtfully.

  
***

Darcy had fed Gerald and gone back to bed to cry when she heard Ian come back. She shuffled out as he turned on the light. “Darcy?” he said. “What happened?” In the light, Gerald stared at him, then hissed.

“I--I--” she began, then stumbled into his arms. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Something happened tonight and I feel so awful.”

“What?” he said. He’d gone stiff when she hugged him. 

“Me and Brock, we, um--nothing really happened, but it almost happened,” she said, starting to cry again. “And I feel so guilty for doing that to you.”

“Darcy,” Ian said in a slow, careful-sounding voice, “did Brock Rumlow send his team to spy on me?”

“What?” Darcy said.

“Some STRIKE guys showed up at my campsite, like they thought I might not be alone,” Ian said. Gerald made an irate sound at Darcy’s feet. Ian looked down nervously. "Like they'd been sent to dig up dirt, Darce."

“I can’t believe he would do that,” Darcy said. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“I can’t believe Brock would do that,” Darcy repeated softly to Ian. At her feet, Gerald hissed slightly. 

“I find it entirely plausible,” he said. She looked up into Ian’s eyes--and didn’t like what she saw there. “He’s obviously tried something with you tonight--” he was saying when Darcy cut him off.

“Ian?”

“Yes?” he said.

“Where did we--how did we get like this?” she wondered aloud. “We never spend time together, I feel like we’re so distant--”

“I thought you wanted separate hobbies,” he said sharply. He stepped away from her and Darcy deflated, feeling that sharp stab of tears behind her eyes at his tone and the space he’d put between them.

“I want,” she said slowly, “not to feel like we’re fighting even when we aren’t talking.”

“I don’t know what that means,” he said. His body was as stiff as his voice, Darcy realized. “Why don’t you just leave me?” he said sourly. “It’s obvious you have feelings for _him.”_ The last word was emphasized. Before she could reply, he turned to go to his bedroom. To sulk, Darcy realized. Feeling shut out again, she went to her room, Gerald trailing after her.

She was sitting in the dark, crying, with the Flerken in her lap when it dawned on her that Ian was punishing her. For being honest with him about her almost-mistake with Brock. It shook her out of her upset state--and she got angry. She’d been honest. And he was intent on making her miserable. Why had he done that? Why? Darcy seldom got really mad, but when she did, it came on suddenly after someone had made her cry. She stood up, abruptly shifting Gerald onto the bed. He yowled. “Sorry, buddy,” she said, then turned on her heel and went to Ian’s bedroom door. She knocked forcefully. “I have something to say to you!” she yelled through the door. Her brain was going a hundred miles a minute, jumbled with thoughts. But one in particular nagged at her.

“Wha--?” she heard him say. He’d obviously been asleep, she thought. That only made her more angry. That he could leave her miserable and sleep well.

“Open the freaking door, Ian!” she yelled again. “I need to know!” The door opened and a sleepy-looking Ian peered out. His expression was mulish.

“Know what?”

“Are you cheating?” Darcy said.

  
  


***

“You did what?” Brock said to him. Jack had immediately gone and woken Rumlow up. They were in his apartment now. A tired-looking Rumlow studied them wearily from his kitchen bar. He looked like he hadn’t slept. Three bottles of water sat in between them on the counter. Behind Jack, Rodriguez shifted nervously. “You spied on Boothby? Shit, Jack,” Brock said. Jack swallowed. Nobody wanted Rumlow to be angry. Jack grimaced. It was occurring to him that, without evidence of Boothby’s wrongdoings, his supervisor might take a dim view of their interference.

“We were trying to help, boss,” Rodriguez added. 

“Help,” Brock said slowly, “help who?”

“You,” Jack said, closing his eyes for a second. “We were, uh, hoping to find out--”

“Smitty thought Boothby was out there foolin’ around with Rachel from Legal,” Rodriguez said, anxiety speeding up his words. “And, uh, if we got that information, then, uh, you’d be free to, uh---”

“To what?” Brock said. There was a long moment of intense silence. The digital clock on Rumlow’s stove read five-thirteen am in green. Jack sipped his water.

“We thought you mig--” Jack began, but the other man spoke more quickly.

“Take Darcy Lewis to a movie?” Rodriguez said. “Or dinner? But you know, she seems more like a movie person to me. And she’s gotta like you better than Boothby, he’s a piece of shit,” he added. “He slow clapped us.”

“He what?” Rumlow said.

“Slow clap, it’s a British thing,” Jack said.

“He’s not even attractive,” Rodriguez said in a petty voice.

“He caught you?” Brock asked, setting down his water bottle with a thump. “You let him _ catch _you doing surveillance?”

“We were, uh, hoping to surprise him with the woman,” Jack said. 

“In the tent,” Rodriguez supplied. Jack nodded.

“Then we’d have the evidence to take to Darcy.”

“I still think he’s messing around,” Rodriguez said. “Smitty’s got good instincts for that. He has a sneaky-ass look about him.” 

“Fuck,” Rumlow said. “I can’t believe you did this without telling me. What were you thinking?” He looked at Jack.

“I’m sorry, mate,” Jack said.

“We thought it was going so good,” Rodriguez said, sighing. Jack looked at Brock. The STRIKE commander’s expression was worried.

“What’s he gonna tell her now that he’s seen you?” he asked Jack, then stood up abruptly. “I have to tell her that this wasn’t my plan,” he said.

The two of them followed him out of his apartment and to Darcy’s. “What’s he gonna do?” Rodriguez wondered. Rumlow was walking quickly ahead of them.

“Throw us under the bloody bus,” Jack said. “I just hope it works.”

“Yeah,” Rodriguez said. He looked at Jack. “She knows him though. He wouldn’t get caught, maybe she’ll realize…”

“I hope so,” Jack said. When they turned down the wing that contained Darcy and Ian’s apartment, Rumlow had stopped in front of the door. He’d raised his hand to knock, then frozen, head tilted. “Mate?” Jack said, coming to stand at his elbow.

“You hear that?” Rumlow said, face suddenly expressionless and focused. 

From inside the apartment, Jack heard the sound of raised voices. Then Darcy Lewis shouted. “Here,” Jack said, handing one of the STRIKE keycards to Brock. They could override all the residential locks for evac emergencies. A second later, Brock had pushed the door open and was walking into the apartment. 

“Darcy?” he called out. Jack could tell he was slightly panicked as he moved inside. Jack and Rodriguez stopped in the middle of the foyer, looking into the living room. Jack had heard a distinct sniffle and something that sounded like a belch.

“What was that?” Rodriguez whispered.

“Sweetheart?” Brock said, totally ignoring the men behind him. He turned on the light and Darcy Lewis was suddenly visible in the living room. She stood in her pajamas and bathrobe, eyes streaked with tears. The Flerken was sitting on the couch.

“Brock?” she said. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I am. But Ian and I were fighting,” she said sadly. “He told me that he wants to live with someone else. And then Gerald swallowed him. Now he won’t spit him out!”

On the couch, the cat burped again. 

  



	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing!

“Jerry, buddy,” Brock said calmly. He used the same voice he used in hostage negotiations and that time he’d fake-fought Cap in an elevator. “Come on, pal,” he said. “Let’s spit Ian up, okay? Just get him back out here?” He spread his arms in what he hoped was also a concillatory gesture in Flerken.

“Yes, please,” Darcy said, looking panicky. Behind them, Rollins and Rodriguez looked nervous. “Please, Gerald?” she repeated. They pleaded for several minutes. The Flerken meowed and burped. He’d started pacing the couch, clearly irritated. When Darcy tried to hold him or soothe him, he dodged.

“Just let us see him, huh?” Brock said.

“Come on, pal,” Rollins said.

“Yeah, buddy,” Rodriguez added. 

“This isn’t working,” Darcy said. She looked at Brock and whispered. “Should we just grab Gerald and go to medical? He wasn’t like this with the HYDRA guy. He spit that guy up as soon as I asked.” Her voice was anxious. Brock was worried she might cry again and that would upset Gerald. He also worried that the Flerken was rattled and might swallow anyone strange from medical who touched him. Gerald’s hair was standing up along his back, like a Halloween cutout of a cat.

“It’s okay, honey,” Brock told her, “you just calm down.” He rubbed her arm soothingly. “We don’t wanna make him more stressed, right?” he said in a softer voice. Darcy nodded and he gave her a little squeeze. For a second, she relaxed. On the couch, Gerald made an approving sound and then coughed. Both their heads swiveled in his direction.

“Oh,” Darcy said, disappointed. “He just coughed up a little Flerken goop.” It was shiny and vividly green.

“Ew,” Rodriguez said. 

“That’s good, though. Really good,” Brock said. “C’mon, Gerald. Do some more of that.” Gerald meowed again and belched, but no goop.

“What do you think worked that time?” Darcy wondered. “What were we doing?”

“He was, uh, touching you?” Jack offered from behind them. Darcy looked at them, then Brock.

“Yeah,” Rodriguez said. 

“Oh,” Darcy said. “Should we do...something?”

“Maybe he’s worried about your safety if he spits him out?” Brock said. He put an arm around Darcy awkwardly. “She’s going to be all right,” he told the Flerken. “Ian won’t hurt her.” Gerald meowed plantively, but tried to cough. 

“Yes,” Darcy repeated, nodding. The Flerken coughed up a little more goop. “Yay!” Darcy said. “That’s great! Keep going, Gerald.” When a thought occurred to him, Brock leaned in to whisper in her ear.

“Did he actually hurt you?” Brock said. 

“He, um, threw one of my mugs,” she said pointing to the shattered fragments in the corner of the room.

“Motherfucker,” Brock muttered. Darcy turned her head to look at him. “I could kill him—”

“Shh, what happened to your calm voice?” she said. 

“I’m calm,” he said, very much not calm. “I’m calm.” He looked at her. Then at the cat. “We’re gonna get rid of Ian, okay?” he bartered with Gerald. “You spit him up, those two will take Ian to medical and I’ll stay with Darcy.” Gerald meowed sadly. Then he yorked up a little more green goop. When he belched and blinked at them again, Darcy frowned. “What?” Brock said. 

“He seems upset still,” she said. “Can I--let me try something?”

“Okay,” Brock said slowly, not following. “What are you--ohhhh,” he said, as she leaned up and kissed him gently. He was momentarily startled, but Darcy deepened the kiss and he followed her lead, pulling her closer. He kinda forgot why they were there, enjoying the soft feeling of her mouth against his and the way Darcy was leaning against him. As he kissed her face, he realized that she tasted faintly of salt from crying. “I’m gonna--gonna get him for that,” he murmured, intending to swear revenge on Boothby and wrapping his arms around her waist.

“Hmmm?” Darcy said.

“Fucker made you cry,” he said hotly. 

“S’okay,” she was saying. “I’m done with him, I want to be with you—” when Jack, momentarily forgotten, gasped and there was a sound. A loud, honking expellation, followed by a heavy splattering thud.

“Holy shit,” Rodriguez said. Brock realized that something had splattered on him. He pulled his face away from Darcy and turned his head. The prone and slime-covered form of Ian Boothby was laying on the carpet. They had been splattered by Flerken fluids. Gerald was calmly cleaning himself on the couch. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I own nothing.

They’d taken Ian to medical when Rachel showed up. “That--that thing ate him!” she yelled at Rodriguez. He’d stationed himself at the door with Jack while Darcy and Brock waited in an inner room. Ian’s stomach needed to be pumped, the staff had told Darcy. Everyone was slightly frazzled. Brock had been holding Darcy’s hand. Gerald was tucked in the pocket of her now-slimy bathrobe.

“Say what now?” Rodriguez said. Gossip must’ve gotten around the facility, Darcy realized, looking up blankly at the sound of the other woman’s voice. Jack had his arms crossed and was glaring in a particularly lethal-looking way, but that didn’t shake Rachel.

“I want to see him,” Rachel insisted. Darcy squinted at her through the glass wall. She was tall and blonde. 

“You okay?” Brock said. 

“Yeah,” Darcy said. “It’s just--just—” she began, then trailed off as she started to giggle. “Gerald swallowed him,” she got out, between laughs. “Oh my God, Brock.”

“I think he fucking deserved it,” Brock said, pressing his thumb over her knuckles slowly. The motion was soft. She liked it. Really liked it. She could think of a thousand different occupations for his hands. “Yeah?” he said, catching the rise of color in her face.

“Please don’t do that,” Darcy said, leaning her head against his shoulder, “because this is a really inappropriate location for me to start kissing you.”

“Uh-huh,” he said. “What if we get out of here?” He raised an eyebrow.

“My apartment’s being de-gooped,” Darcy reminded him.

“Mine’s not,” he said, looking serious. Then he smiled slowly. “And my bed’s still good.”

“That’s right,” Darcy said, wanting to nuzzle him. Then her attention was arrested by something beyond the glass. Jane was speed-walking down the hallway, trailed by Thor. Darcy had left her an upset message when they arrived. “Uh-oh,” Darcy said.

“What?” Brock said, alert.

“That,” Darcy said, as Jane started yelling at Rachel. “She’s probably going to—”

“Ouch,” Brock said, as Jane poured a bottle of water in Rachel’s face and down the front of the other woman’s shirt and Rachel shrieked in surprise.

“We count it as an improvement when she doesn’t slap,” Darcy said, voice wry. She yawned.

“Really,” he said neutrally. Then he squeezed Darcy’s hand again. “Sweetheart, come home with me,” he asked her. “You can take a shower, get some rest—”

“I was supposed to start redecorating your place today,” Darcy said. 

“You could always move your stuff in,” he said quietly.

“I could,” she said.

  
  


“Brock?” Darcy said, leaning out of the bathroom. He was feeding Gerald in the kitchen.

“Yeah?” he called.

“Did you want to get in the shower with me?” she asked. She'd already turned on the water so it could warm. There was a pause. “You can say no--oh,” Darcy said, as he came into the bedroom, already stripping off his shirt. “Okay,” she said. She left the door open and climbed into the shower basin first. She sort of wanted to be ungoopy before he got a good look at her. A moment later, he stepped in behind her with a deep inhalation. Then he slid his arms around her belly. “Hi,” Darcy said, leaning into his embrace. “I didn’t think this through.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, pausing. The water was warm on her skin. So were his hands.

“I don’t have my contacts in,” she said. “You’re all blurry. It’s the one flaw in my See-Brock-Naked Scheme.”

“Yeah?” he said. He’d relaxed as soon as he realized she was comfortable. “What if you just feel me, huh?” he asked, kissing the side of her face. 

“Okay,” she said, turning to face him. The water ran in her eyes, but if she closed them and tucked her face against his neck, it was possible to run her fingers over his body. Not being able to see made her go slowly. He inhaled sharply when she slid down to feel the v-muscles in his hips, fingers tangling in the dark hair at his groin. “You’re ridiculously muscular,” she told him, looking up. She slid her hand down to his dick.

“You’re killing me,” he muttered, between kisses. 

“Are we clean yet? I still can’t see.” 

“Clean enough,” he said, reaching behind her to turn off the water. 

“Wait, wait,” Darcy said, as he lifted her out of the shower, “don’t we need a towel?”

“Sure, baby,” he said, voice warm as he sat her down. She leaned against him. He kissed her again, yanking a towel from somewhere behind Darcy to wrap her in. He sank down on his knees to dry her off, planting kisses on her skin. When he pressed his face into her cleavage, she sighed.

“Everything about you is warm,” Darcy babbled, thrilled and probably giddy from sleep exhaustion. “Your skin. Your mouth. Your hands. I just want--I want—” she stuttered. Ian hadn’t touched Darcy in months, even casually, so she felt incredibly exposed. “More,” she said.

“I know,” he said. “I know.” They tangled up with each other, kissing, in his bed. Everything was reduced to blurry sensations for Darcy. The heat of his hands squeezing her breasts. The blue light of the early day coming through the edges of the window blinds. The coolness of his sheets against her skin as he edged her legs apart with his knee, sliding his body closer. “You make me crazy,” he said, palming at her inner thighs and between her legs.

“Please, Brock,” she murmured. She wrapped her arms around his neck, trying to align herself against him. 

“Yeah,” he said, “yeah. Lemme get--” He got a condom from the nightstand. 

“I’d help but I can’t see,” Darcy told him. She was kissing his chest when Brock pushed inside her. “Ohhh,” she moaned.

“Good?” he said.

“Yeah,” she nodded. She chased his mouth with kisses, using her grip on his shoulders to lift her head off the pillow. He smiled and leaned closer. 

“Darcy,” he said, repeating her name like a mantra. He was panting it in her ear when she came, squeezing around him. “Christ, baby,” he said, hips jerking as he leaned down to kiss her. 

Brock fell asleep first, arm heavy over her body. Darcy was exhausted, but as she drifted off, she felt something by her ear. She turned her head. It was Gerald, settling on the pillow next to her. “Hey, buddy,” she said. “You’re a good kitten.” Gerald blinked at her and licked his paws.

  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I own nothing!

“This is great,” Darcy said, looking up at Brock as he stood on a ladder. She come back to his apartment to find he’d hung all her twinkle lights as a surprise. His STRIKE team had helped pack up her things while Ian was still in the hospital. Jane had already put in paperwork to transfer Ian to another SHIELD astrophysics lab. Darcy had to plead on his behalf for leniency, but she thought being swallowed by Gerald was punishment enough. It was all moving quickly. Everything was changing, she realized, looking at the way her fireworks lights lent a gleam to Brock’s tattooed arms. She’d been bored for years. How had she not known?

“You like ‘em here?” he said.

“Yeah,” she said. “I like it. You, too. I like you.” 

“Good to know,” he said, smirking slowly. 

“What?” Darcy said, trying to read his look. He’d been almost smug since they woke up together. At least she thought that emotion was smugness. Her own emotions were all over the place. She wanted to tell him things: how happy she was, so happy that her brain felt giddy and that time was either too fast or too slow, how sweet he was to her, how much she liked just looking at him. But she was a little afraid that she’d babble or sound crazy.

“Tonight’s our first official hygge night as a couple,” he said, climbing down. “This is it. You, me, the Flerken, your pretty lights. What else do we need?” She looked around the room. Gerald was playing in his cardboard house.

“Hmmm,” Darcy said thoughtfully. “Popcorn, drinks—” Brock nodded.

“Good,” he said. He opened a bottle of wine while the popcorn popped and then corralled her on the couch. They stretched out together and he let her talk about the superiority of  _ Christmas in Connecticut  _ compared to  _ It’s A Wonderful Life.  _ She was talking about how  _ It’s A Wonderful Life  _ was a slander against cool librarians everywhere when she glanced down at him. He was nuzzling her tummy. He looked up with a smile. “What I hear you saying, baby, is that Donna Reed would have been a hot single librarian in Pottersville?” he said, grinning. She was nodding vigorously and going to add a point about glasses stigma when she had a thought.

“You do that a lot,” Darcy said suddenly. 

“Hmm?” he said, looking up from where he was kissing her stomach. “Kiss you? I like this cute little mole you’ve got next to your belly button, sweetheart,” he said. 

“No, I mean, you let me talk,” she said. He spread his palm flat against her stomach, rested his chin on his hand, and looked up at her quizzically.

“Yeah?” he said. Then he smiled. “So?”

“It’s just...new, that’s all,” Darcy said. “You’re so good to me.”

“You say that like it’s difficult,” he said wryly. “You’re easy to be good to.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said, shaking her head, “that is not what I’ve heard.” He frowned. 

“You were with him too long,” Brock said. “He didn’t treat you right, sweetheart.”

“I’m going to disagree,” she said, “I think it’s that you’re amazing. Really amazing.” She smiled at him. He smiled back slowly, expression turning mischeivous.

“Yeah, well,” Brock said, shrugging. His expression was wry. “I’m not gonna argue with you there—”

“Roll over,” Darcy ordered, biting her lip. “It’s my turn to be very good to you.”

“Yeah?” he said, smirking. They wiggled, shifting positions so Darcy was on top of him. She kissed him gently, then rolled his shirt up and he helped her slide it over his head. Brock tossed it on the floor, then smiled at her. 

“Another thing that’s amazing about you,” she said. “The abs.” She traced the muscles in his stomach.

“Eh,” he said, putting an arm behind his head and relaxing as she pressed her lips against his sternum. “That’s just hard work, sweetheart.”

“False modesty,” Darcy snickered, dotting kisses across his stomach. He laughed, nodding. His eyes lit up as she undid his belt buckle. “Have I mentioned how much I’ve been wanting to do this?” she said, stripping his pants down slowly. “I’ve been a really terrible assistant this week because you’re all I think about.”

“Keep talking,” he said, voice low. He was looking at her intently.

“I think that would defeat the purpose,” Darcy said, biting her lip and grinning as she debriefed him. She leaned down, taking his cock in her hand and tracing her tongue over his shaft. He groaned and Darcy giggled before she lowered her mouth. She was a little sloppy in her eagerness. She hadn’t gotten used to him yet--the musky, salty taste of him was exciting. Warmth pooled between her legs as she moved.

“Jesus, baby,” he muttered, cupping the back of her head. His voice hitched, but his touch was gentle. “I love you,” he gasped out.

“Mmm-hmmm?” She shifted back to tease him with her tongue and he swore vividly, pleading with her in a low voice.

“Don’t fucking torture me like this,” he said. “I—-I can’t take it.”

“Okay,” she said, smirking. She’d just slid her mouth down when therewas a heavy knock on the door.

“Motherfucker,” he said. “Who the fuck—?”

“Boss?” someone called through the door, as Darcy pulled away slowly and dragged the back of her hand over her mouth.

“Shit,” Brock said.

“Whoops,” she said, sitting up. He eased her back to clamor off the couch.

“I’m--I’m--don’t move,” he said to her. “You stay here. Stay.”

“I wasn’t planning on leaving,” she said mirthfully. He was wild-eyed. “I live here now, remember?” she added.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. I’m gonna shoot somebody,” he said, pulling his pants up without buttoning them. Darcy listened as Brock stomped to the door, muttering. “What?” he said. Darcy heard a muted reply, then Brock swore again. “I can’t believe this bullshit. The goddamned Hulk?” he said. “That’s Romanoff’s thing--but she’s in Kiev. Shit.”

“Yes, boss.”

“Hold on, I’ve got an idea.” A moment later he’d returned to Darcy. His expression was sheepish.

“You have to work,” she said wryly.

“Yeah,” he said, exhaling. He scratched the back of his head. “But, uh.” He paused again, inhaled. “If Gerald could help out, I might be able to get back faster?” 

“Don’t ask me, ask Gerald,” Darcy said, smiling and gesturing. Brock turned his head. At the sound of his name, Gerald had popped his head out of the cardboard house. Gerald meowed. “Is that a yes, buddy?” Brock said. “I think it’s a yes,” he added, excited, as Gerald crawled out of the house and twined himself around Brock’s ankles. “Okay, all right,” he said, pulling on his t-shirt and scooping up the Flerkitten. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he said. “We both will.” He was halfway to the door when Darcy called out.

“Be safe! And button your pants!” 

***

“How did you end up covered in sheetrock dust?” Darcy asked him, wiggling in his lap and ruffling his hair. That felt nice. Brock lifted his head from her cleavage and shrugged. 

“It turns out the Hulk don’t like when you trip him, baby,” he said, omitting some details about what exactly he’d said to Banner’s alter ego. Big green dumbass had yeeted him through a wall. He was lucky Gerald had been there to swallow the fucker at the right moment. Even the Hulk had been startled back into human form at the sight of Flerken tentacles. Now they were in medical, waiting for the kitten to cough up Banner. Gerald was sitting on a hospital gurney a few feet away, belching. 

“You tripped him? You shouldn’t have,” Darcy said. “The Other Guy can be really nice. He let me paint his toenails once. With glitter.” 

“Jesus, don’t tell me things like that,” Brock said. “No playing with that green—” 

“Shhh, Gerald’s coughing him up!” Darcy said, covering Brock’s mouth with her hand. He nibbled her palm playfully. “Cut it out,” she added, as the Flerkitten gagged and coughed. A second later, a groaning, slime-covered, and very naked Banner was on the floor at their feet.

“Hi, Bruce,” Darcy said brightly.

“Missed the gurney a bit there, pal,” Brock said, feeling smug. He still had Hulk bruises. He winked at Gerald, who coughed up a bit more goop.

“Darcy?” Banner said in a confused voice.

“Yup,” she said, detaching herself from Brock and picking up something draped over the plastic chair. “I’m gonna cover your man-business with this hospital gown and give you a paper towel to clean your glasses. Fury’ll be in here in a minute,” she said, leaning down carefully with the first item and then getting him a paper towel.

“Thank you,” Banner said. “Was that really a cat who swallowed—-?”

“You remember Gerald?” Darcy said, apparently happy. “He’s my cat. He was a present from Thor.”

“I’m her boyfriend,” Brock said.

“Oh,” Banner said, shifting onto his back and half-sitting up. “Sorry,” he added. “The Other Guy—ah!” He jumped when he saw Gerald peering down at him and Brock had to stifle a laugh. “That’s the cat,” Banner said. He sounded alarmed. At his tone, Gerald hissed a little.

“Gerald,” Darcy scolded. Brock was trying not to lose it.

“Nice kitty, nice kitty,” Bruce said cautiously. He looked at Darcy. “Cats usually don’t like me. I don’t know why.” Gerald puffed up and hissed more loudly.

“You put me through a wall,” Brock muttered. 

“Brock, he’s very upset,” Darcy said. He wasn’t sure if she meant the cat or the scientist, but he heard an opportunity. 

“We should probably go,” Brock said, standing up and picking Darcy up easily.

“Hey,” she said, as he slung her over one shoulder. She wiggled. “This is kidnapping,” she said, laughing.

“Be still, I gotta carry the cat, too,” he said. “Bye, Banner.”

“Bye,” Banner said. He was looking at the Flerken slime on his limbs. 

“Hold on,” Darcy said, making Brock stop next to the counter. She tossed the paper towel roll at the scientist on the floor. “Sorry about the goop, Bruce!”

“This is not the worst place I’ve woken up, trust me,” Banner said. “This stuff may have interesting scientific properties—” he was saying to himself as Brock marched away with Darcy and the cat.

“I think he’ll be okay,” she said.

“Uh-huh.”

  
  


They met Fury on the way out. “Gerald,” he said in an abnormally delighted voice. “I heard you saved my entire STRIKE team.” He stopped to pet the cat and took him out of Brock’s hand. “What a good boy, what a good pretty boy,” he said. Gerald seemed to preen.

“We love him, too,” Darcy said.

“He just coughed up Banner,” Brock said smugly. 

“Uh-huh,” Fury said, looking at Brock and shifting back to normal mode, “because your stupid ass thought it would be cute to call the Hulk a big, green idiot?”

“Brock!” Darcy said. “You didn’t!” She wiggled to look at him and he put her down.

“He did,” Fury said.

“I didn’t say idiot,” Brock said. “Sir.”

“Be careful next time,” Fury said, giving Gerald a final pat and handing him to Darcy. They’d gone a few steps when she spoke.

“What did you say?” Darcy asked.

“I called him a big, green, dumbass,” he admitted.

“Brock!” she said, voice horrified, “I can’t believe you did that.” 

“It was maybe not my best work moment,” he admitted. There was a pause. He waited for her to say something else as they walked back to the apartment. 

“Besides,” Darcy said. “The Other Guy is very intelligent. He knows everything from Bruce’s PhDs and we had a great conversation about Emily Dickinson while I was painting his toenails.”

“Emily Dickinson?” Brock said, looking at her in shock.

“He did the stomping sounds for  _ I felt a Funeral, in my Brain  _ in the coolest way,” she said. “It dislodged a ceiling tile, but he’s really nice, I swear. He liked my twinkle lights and split a Snickers.”

“You really shouldn’t tell me these things if you want me not to have a stroke,” Brock told her, his head full of terrifying images of Darcy bouncing up to the Hulk with candy.

“Phhfft,” Darcy said. Then she looked at him cannily. “Does that mean you’re not in the mood to—?” He stopped and tilted his head.

“No,” he said, smirking slowly, “it does not.”

“Okay, good,” she said. He pulled her in for a kiss. He was careful not to squish Gerald. “But we’re in a hallway,” she said, as he nuzzled her nose. The cat batted at his dusty tactical harness.

“We could change that,” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said, between kisses. 

“Definitely,” he added. Gerald meowed. 

“Gerald thinks so,” Darcy said, beaming at him.

-the end-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some plotlines inspired by the hilarious things Frank Grillo has said about Crossbones being able to beat the Hulk: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkPayJVF51k


End file.
